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Yo, An Interview
You’ve been avidly following Neil Kramer’s Citizen of the Month Great Interview Experiment, right? Right?? This is where I get to ask another blogger incriminating questions and post the Q & A right here. Then someone else asks ME questions and posts them. A long chain of awesome. I love it. Introducing Mary Mac of Pajamas and Coffee. I spent hours stalking her. So should you. Go now. 1. So the Evil Queen is your role model. Have you ever slipped anyone a poisoned apple? More importantly, if you were to slip someone a poisoned apple, who would it be and why? The Evil Queen is hot. The princesses are…
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Ordinary
Yesterday we went for a walk. It was raining a little and I put my hood up to cover my hair, missing my favorite black beret that disappeared last week into The Land of Misfit Hats when the mighty wind blew and trees toppled. We wove our way through art galleries. I admired some pieces and took away new inspiration. There was nothing that needed to be bought, not even the beautifully-colored large glass octopus that called to me from its waterless perch. I turned my eyes quickly away from a young woman’s impossibly large nose, even though she is probably accustomed to nasal scrutiny. A plate of untouched and…
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We Take An Ass That Doesn’t Hurt For Granted
I fell the other night. Out of bed, apparently. I remember yelling — screaming maybe — something profound like, “Ow!” And feeling like my body had been glued to the floor. And now, practically every movement I make with my ass (these are surprisingly numerous) hurts. I can’t help but think that it’s part of the Universe’s plan for me. Tilting on its axis suddenly and causing me to fall out of bed and break my ass. That’s it, isn’t it? I could also blame alcohol. Why not? My ass hurts when I breathe and I have to point the finger at somebody. And after all, coming home at night…
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What Do You Do When You Just Want To Die?
Right now, in this moment, I want to die. While this isn’t purely hypothetical, please don’t freak out. Don’t refer me to a suicide hotline. Don’t tell me I need counseling. Because baby, I can guarantee you 100 percent that I am not the only person in the Universe who feels this way — at least sometimes. Momentarily. But I am one of a handful who is willing to talk about it. It wasn’t long ago that I first began really embracing this feeling when it comes up. Emotions, to me, are waves. They come, they go, they move through and around and beyond me. Ripples in a pond. Yeah,…
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Inevitability
She looked across the choppy waves, feeling her mind begin to undulate slightly with the incessant in-out motion of the water. The invitation was clear: jump in. The waves sighed at her resistance. Breathing? There is no need for breathing. We are all the breath you need. High above, a sea bird circled and cried its impatience and acceptance. Her mind moved in rhythm with the dark churning waves. She began to feel spiny sea creatures moving slowly within her, along with smooth-sided cetaceans and the gills of millions upon millions of fish, each opening and closing like the petals of a flower. She longed to be a part of…
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Hello Kitty is 35
This is as full of awesome as it gets. Who knew that an 80’s icon would survive this long? Now Hello Kitty is ironic. Depth of flavor. Let’s examine some other 80’s icons, and find out whether they slipped quietly into ex-iconic obscurity, or became ironic-iconic. Shall we? Boy George. Jumped the shark. Sorry, Boy. Now you’re old and creepy. Breakfast Club. Timeless. Does it help that director John Hughes has died? Do we feel older now? Will you recognize me? Call my name or walk on by? The A-Team. Oh, come on. You can hum the theme song, can’t you? It doesn’t get more retro-cool than that, especially considering…
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Forest Love Song
It started two years ago (or was it two millennia?). I rented a wee dollhouse in the forest space high above the rock-strewn beach of Pt. Roberts, WA, a tiny peninsula that juts from Canada into Boundary Bay and that because of oversight or a mapmaker’s joke actually belongs to the U.S., requiring border crossings and passports. My dollhouse-in-the-woods was to be the perfect writers’ retreat — difficult to get to, remote, quiet. I could overlook the tiny bathroom/shower combination, sit on the wee sofa built for two, and write. I found myself drawn outside, though. Late-season blackberries still dotted the tangled vines marking the steep trail down to the…
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Lessons In Non-Attachment
I am told I sometimes take things too seriously. This may be true and I am learning to let go of my issues — one clenched death-grip finger at a time. 1. Control of space. My landlords are cheap. I should have known this when I moved in, I should have smelled it on their clothes or something, but since I was dealing with “real people” instead of a faceless corporation, my expectations grew exponentially. I would be treated with care, I thought. Like a person. Loved. Because I would love my place and it would be my home. My place, my home, is an extension of me. I have:…
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OCD Much?
It has recently been pointed out to me — not thrown in my face, since that would be, well, awkward, wouldn’t it? — that I might be a teensy bit controlling. The world “rules” was used, maybe even the phrase “lots of rules.” Repeatedly. Ahem. This may or may not be true. But in visiting my house, there are a few things you should know. 1. Anything that touches or may possibly touch my naked or sleeping body (or the naked or sleeping body of anyone whose body may at some point touch any portion of my own), including but not limited to sheets, blankets, pillows, duvets, towels, and clothing…
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All The Pretty Little Horses
At 6, given a shiny penny to throw into the tinkling fountain at the mall we visited once a year in order to buy school clothes, I knew exactly what to wish for. I closed my eyes tight, imagined the elegant, stately horse I knew would be mine one day, and threw the penny into the water, feeling that odd mix of anticipation for something wonderful happening someday and regret for having thrown something valuable away. At 7 in the car, we’d pass horses sometimes. Living in what was once a cowtown and now was an emerging bedroom community of physicists and engineers and their kids, we were surrounded by…